Today I stood up in front of some people and talked about my books. No, it's all right, they wanted me to, or at least, no-one cried or ran away or tried to hold me down while big men came with pointy needles. Not like last time. Or the time before, come to that.
No, this time I was reading New Material. That's what my underpants are made out of now, it's a miracle that holds everything in, or at least pokes it round the back where no-one can see it until you sit down and they ask if you brought your own cushion.
Anyway. My new material is the first few chapters of Please Don't Stop the Music, also available at Choc Lit's wonderous and near-magical page. So I whipped it out and revealed it in front of these lovely and discerning people, whilst they ate a chocolate cream tea (which held them in place for long enough for me to get through my usual pre-reading talk - showing the emergency exits, procedures in case of a word-crash, two minutes of mumbling and one obscene hiaku) and cherry liqueurs (also supplied by Choc Lit, who know that the way to an audience's heart is through their rampant alcoholic-chocolate addiction).
And it was all jolly good fun and I got to meet some lovely new people (who only ran away moderately fast when I knuckled my way over to them and introduced myself), and some of them offered to let my join their writing group as long as I gave enough notice for them to get away first. Wasn't that nice?
And I also went to see Doctor Who Live in Manchester. There were lots of small children there, and much bursting into tears, wetting of seats and hiding of eyes, but it was all right because my husband was there to mop up after me. Daleks are scary. Still, I bet I could take one out with a well-aimed cherry liqueur.
Right in the kisser with a chocolate one. Hah. I'm not afraid of you, I've got a box of walnut whips!
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